The Maker Demands
by LuxaLucifer
Summary: Meredith was Knight-Commander now, and she'd never met the First Enchanter. There are problems in her new Circle, and they all stem seem to stem from Orsino. Warnings inside.


I've come down with a severe case of Orsino-obsession, and it's gotten so problematic that I've come up with like fifteen different Orsino headcanons and if I don't write them down my friends will actually kill me because I won't shut up about him. So yeah, here this is. If you think Meredith or Orsino or even Emeric are out of character, remember that this takes places twenty years before the start of DA2. Rated for infrequent but pretty vulgar language and a strong sexual situation.

* * *

Meredith was Knight-Commander now, and she'd never met the First Enchanter.

Thinking it so plainly made it sound awful, but she had reasons for being a Knight-Captain who'd never met the leader of the Circle. She'd been dealing with the negligence and disarray caused by their former Knight-Commander for as long as she could remember. She'd seen Orsino of course, Kirkwall's First enchanter for nearly a decade now, but never that close, and they'd never spoken. She'd heard the rumors, though. They'd all heard the rumors.

Until now. She held her head high as she walked the ceremonial path to the Gallows, unnerved by how different and strange everything seemed even though she walked only a few feet away from her normal path.

The First Enchanter was walking to meet her, and as they approached each other she began to see his face more clearly. She felt ungainly as she noticed his smooth gait, her own armor wearing her down and making her clink with every step.

_You're Knight-Commander now,_ she reminded herself. _The Maker demands that you hide your fears._

They stopped walking and faced each other from a distance of about five feet. Around them, templars and mages shuffled into their places. Meredith took the moment to examine the First Enchanter; she did not much like what she saw.

He was the tallest elf she'd ever seen, taller than her even, and she stood at around six feet. His jet-black hair was drawn back in a ponytail, all except for a disgustingly artful braid left to dangle out in front. He had a long face, high cheekbones, and thin lips, a combination she normally would have considered unattractive, but he was obviously working very hard to pull it off. Her eyes traveled over his face as she realized he was wearing makeup- Orlesian makeup, of all things- to hide whatever imperfections lay in his complexion.

A First Enchanter more concerned with his appearance with the safety of his mages and the people around them made her sick. She forced herself to meet his eyes, a pale murky green. Hers were blue, she knew, and bright. She hoped they unnerved him.

"Knight-Commander Meredith," he said, his voice deeper and plainer than she'd thought it would be. "I, on behalf of the mages as the First Enchanter of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi, extension of the Chantry of Light, residing in the Free Marches, welcome you to your new position."

A vein in her forehead throbbed as she managed to get out through gritted teeth, "Thank you, First Enchanter. May we work in tandem and bring peace and cooperation to both our groups."

He nodded, and said in a slightly quieter voice, "Of course. I know of you. You have a reputation for getting things done."

"And you have a reputation for..." Promiscuity. However, she did not think saying that would be the wisest course of action. "...Competence."

A shadow passed over his face, and she thought he might have known what she almost said.

"Thank you, Knight-Commander," he said stiffly, his face a mask.

She nodded. "And you, First Enchanter."

She could see his jaw working as she passed him to enter the Gallows. A new day, she decided. _Her _day.

* * *

The mages were well kept in order. She was surprised by this, considering the inadequacies of the Templars' previous leader. Orsino must doing something right after all. She tapped her fingers against the rough wood of her desk and wondered whether she had judged him too fast.

Still, she could not ignore the rumors. There was little respect for the man, even among his own people. At first she'd wondered if it was because he was an elf, but that didn't seem to be the case. He had few allies and no friends, elves or otherwise.

It irked her that their offices weren't close to each other. She might do something about that, if only to get her mind off the subject. She needed to keep an eye on him.

She decided that going for a walk might keep her thoughts in order. Better yet, a visit to the Chantry. A few hours of plain honest prayer did wonders for the mind...or at least it did for her.

The boat trip to the Gallows wasn't a particularly long one, just tiresome when you wanted to be somewhere fast. She had rooms both in the Chantry and at the Gallows, and although she'd been planning to spend as much time in her new domain as possible, she was beginning to consider spending the night in Kirkwall proper. For convenience, of course. And...she missed Kirkwall in all its squalor. She even missed Darktown at times like this.

She was in such a nostalgic fog that she didn't even notice the Chantry's unusual visitor until she walked by his pew. His head was bent so far forward on his knees that his hair hung limp over his face, no braids or adornments in it. When she approached, he glanced over, muddy green eyes flicking to her face. He straightened up immediately, taking only a split second to recognize her.

"Knight-Commander," he said, his words slightly slurred as she stared at what his hair had hidden. "I...I did not expect to find you here."

When he faced her, it was even worse. The entire left side of the First Enchanter's face was horribly beaten, mottled with purple and yellow and even black bruises from his forehead to his chin. It was all terribly swollen and looked very painful. The longer she openly stared at him, the more he reddened.

"I-I fell down some stairs," he stammered, not meeting her gaze. She had a sneaking suspicion that the reason he often wore makeup was to hide the deep bags under his eyes.

"Don't you have healers for that?" she asked, sounding so sharp she nearly made herself wince.

He reddened further and swallowed so hard she watched his adam's apple bob. "I cannot...it is hard to explain..."

Under her withering gaze, he quickly added, "I'll seek them out when I return to the Circle."

"Good," she said, wondering how the world had conspired to make her recommend using magic. "You look awful."

He laughed a little before wincing, gingerly touching his split lip. "I think I shall return to my prayers."

She nodded and walked the steps to the heart of the Chantry, where Elthina stood, presiding over her flock. "Do you have need of something, Meredith?"

"Only your blessing," she replied, attempting a smile. She thought it might had come through. She never knew- with her, smiles were difficult.

Elthina tilted her head. She was older than Meredith by more than a decade, but Meredith still liked to think of her as a friend. "Are you sure that's it?"

"It was at first," she said before she could stop herself. She let her gaze land on Orsino, visible from their bird's eye view of the pews.

"It is unusual to see him here," said Elthina. "But not unwelcome."

"Unusual?" asked Meredith. "How unusual?"

"He only comes when his face looks like it's been hit with..." said Elthina, struggling for an apt comparison.

"A meat grinder?" suggested Meredith.

"Yes," said Elthina, rolling her eyes ever-so-slightly. "He comes every few months. He must be a very clumsy man, to fall down the steps so often."

Meredith ground her teeth and said, "I don't like it when my First Enchanter lies to my face."

"And I don't like it when I step on dead rats, but that doesn't mean we should get rid of the cat. This is a personal matter of his, Meredith, and he is seeking help by coming here. Be grateful he does that much; few First Enchanters do."

"Why?" she heard herself ask.

Elthina's smile was sad as she turned her gaze back to the pews below. "Most of them believe, deep inside, that the Maker has forsaken them."

* * *

"Knight-Commander?"

It was still strange, hearing that title applied to her. She looked up from a group of supply forms to see one of her templars in front of her, shifting from foot to foot. One of her templars, yes, but also a man she'd trained with, practically grown up with (her life in Darktown did not count, that had been no real life at all). A man she trusted.

"Yes, Emeric?" she said, noticing that silver strands were already beginning to appear in his hair. A knight of the Order aged fast.

"There are rumors," began Emeric stiltedly, grinding out every word. "About our First Enchanter."

That he was a hussy, a tramp, a man who spread his legs like a Lowtown whore. She knew the ones. It must have shown in her expression as she snapped, "Yes?"

"There is some truth in them," said Emeric uncomfortably. "But not in the way you think. Can I come in and shut the door?"

She granted his request, curious despite herself. "What is it?"

She wondered if she should get chairs for her office. Emeric looked rather strained, standing there all tense. No, she decided, tense was good. People would talk faster that way.

"I'm not sure how to say this," said Emeric quietly, getting as close as possible with a desk between them. "But the First Enchanter is no..."

"Whore?"

"Yes," said Emeric quickly. "That. The old Knight-Commander, you weren't here, he didn't care what us templars did to the mages...when we were alone with them. Most of us are good men and women, as you know, and-"

"Yes," she interrupted. "I do know. Seeing as I am one myself."

He reddened slightly. "Exactly. Most of us didn't take advantage of the mages...they're just people, and when they're locked up and doing what they're supposed to then they shouldn't be punished. Especially not like that."

"Get to the point."

"When Orsino became First Enchanter, he was young. Too young, many said. The, er..."

"Rapes. Call them what they were."

"Rapes. They stopped for a while, for years, even. But then Alrik-" He stopped dead. "Shit. I wasn't supposed to-"

She filed that away for later. "Continue."

"Then one man decided it had been long enough, and soon they were back full force. Like I said, the old Knight-Commander didn't care. But the First Enchanter, he'd had enough of watching his people suffer, so he...well, I'm not sure what to call it really. He took their place. They go to him whenever they're, ah, in the mood, if you know what I mean. I overhear the ones who do it the most talking about it sometimes, bragging about, well..."

Emeric lapsed into silence, obviously unsure of what to do not. Meredith sat in stony silence, processing all of the information.

"Do you know what they do to him?" said Meredith. _Do they beat him? _she wanted to ask. _Do they beat him so badly he goes to the Chantry and pray__s__for it to end__?_ It was a pointless question, though. She already knew the answer.

She rose from her desk. "Thank you, Ser Emeric." she said stiffly. "I needed to know."

"You believe me?" The relief in his voice was palpable.

"I believe you," she said, the words poison in her throat.

* * *

She hated it. She hated that her some of her templars, no matter how few, were taking advantage of their positions. She hated the corruption in her Order and the corruption in the city and she hated herself for judging based on looks. Once, long ago, she'd been a ragged, filthy beggar girl. If the templars had judged based on looks, where would she be?

Her feet took her all the way around the Gallows, straight to Orsino's office. She barged in without knocking, half expecting to see him spread out on the desk, being fucked by some faceless templar in the name of protecting others. A _mage_ was protecting the mages better than she was. Their First Enchanter, but_ still._

He wasn't in his office. She kicked his wall broodily and continued her trek around the Gallows.

She found him in the long, large hall used for training, a cold, austere place that resembled much of the Gallows. He was instructing several young mage apprentices on a simple spell, half bent over to reach their height. As she approached she could see the eyes of several of the older mages flick to her, but she ignored them. Let them look.

He was a good teacher, it seemed, even if it was only the apprentices benefiting from his lesson. The adult mages were staring at him with distrust, keeper a closer eye on him than even she was. He ignored them, concentrating on the spells instead, and soon had the children performing with a degree of proficiency.

When he was finished, he turned to her. The bruises on his face had mostly healed, only a couple yellow patches surfacing through the concealer he was using to cover it. He smiled at her slightly and said, "Hello, Knight-Commander, how are you?"

"What are you doing?" she practically spat, wincing at the look on Orsino's face.

"I often help the apprentices train," said Orsino, his smile now rather forced. "They benefit from seeing me support them, and it takes some of the strain off the senior enchanters. That, and it keeps my skills fresh. Helps everyone."

He excused himself from the group of mages around him and began walking back towards his quarters, hands clasped in front of him, the staff on his back too large and cumbersome for him to do it behind his back.

"You don't have to escort me back to my quarters," he said. "I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"I'm Knight-Commander," she replied. "I should know this place inside and out."

"And that includes my rooms?" he said coldly. "You won't find anything out of order there."

"I'm sure," she said, trying to sound like she believed him but actually just sounding haughty and sarcastic.

The door to his rooms was the same hard stone as the rest of the Gallows. When he opened it she glimpsed the inside; the room wasn't quite as cell-like as the normal mage quarters, but he hadn't done anything to furnish the bare stone walls and floors. She caught a quick look of a table cluttered with old books before a note fluttered to the floor, Orsino's pale hand snatching it up quick as lightning.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Nothing of import," he said, cheeks reddening. And then she understood.

"Look," she said. "When I say I protect the mages, that includes you. So...if you're in any trouble, I'm here."

His murky green eyes searched hers for a few long moments before he licked his lips and said, his voice strangely hoarse, "I'll keep that in mind."

He entered his room and shut the door, the note crumpled in his hand.

* * *

Alrik. Emeric had mentioned Alrik by name, whether he'd meant to or not. If she was going to put an end to this...this _coerced sex_ (and she _was_ going to) then Alrik was her first lead.

Of all templars...Alrik's family was rich...and not just rich, but old, and very powerful. Getting rid of Alrik would be very difficult, if possible. Whether it would come to that remained to be seen.

She decided that the best course of action would be to trail him. She announced that she was going to the Chantry, slipped into her rooms as the boat left, and changed out of her armor. She couldn't bring herself to wear mage robes, not for Orsino, not for anyone, but she did take off anything conspicuous and hid her blonde hair under a hat.

Meredith Stannard was not known as a particularly stealthy woman. She was a templar, trained to fight up front, no tricks, no sneaking around. But she tried, fitting her six foot tall body into corners she'd never thought possible and hiding in shadows she normally never noticed.

Alrik was a problem; that was the first thing she discovered. He didn't like mages, that much was obvious, but more detrimental was his complete lack of respect for them. While dislike was fine, even encouraged, there needed to be a base acknowledgment that mages were people.

It took hours for something interesting to happen, but Meredith was ready when it did. She was hiding in a hallway nook as Alrik stood guard when half the guard switched and a new templar shimmied up next to Alrik.

"You send him that letter?"

The words were muttered so quietly Meredith almost missed them, but Alrik replied with a laugh so loud it made Meredith's ears throb.

"I did," replied Alrik easily. The only people within earshot were the templar Alrik was talking to and Meredith herself- still, you should be careful when you talked about the sexual exploitation of the First Enchanter

"And did he reply?"

"Of course not," chuckled Alrik, flashing both his bright blue eyes and quick grin at the other templar. "He never does. But when we go to his cell tomorrow we'll find him ready and willing. He's always got a few new tricks up those robes of his. Has to, since he doesn't have a cunt. Doesn't matter in the end, though, does it?"

The other templar leaned even closer to Alrik. "How long did you say he was limping after last time?"

"Over a week," said Alrik, expression shining with gleeful malice. "Usually he fixes himself up, but I told him not to. Liked seeing his face all black and blue."

Meredith was flattened against the wall with rage, backbone grinding against the stone. She had half a mind to jump out now and arrest Alrik, but she knew his connections would guarantee his release. She forced herself to stay in that spot until Alrik and the other templar began their rounds. When they began walking she slipped out of the shadows and began to trek back to her office, mouth tightened in the biggest scowl she'd ever worn. She'd have plans for tomorrow night, that was for sure.

* * *

Hiding in the First Enchanter's office was not an option. Not when she was basically the equivalent of a large, clumsy giant ball only undetectable to other giant balls. Orsino would know she was there.

It would have to be a more direct approach. She needed to catch Alrik- and any of the other templars-in the act. It curdled her stomach to think she was still letting them take advantage of Orsino, even if it was to end it all.

She'd contemplated letting Orsino know of her plans, but in the end she'd decided against it. She didn't know how good of an actor he was, and either way, it was never a good idea to let the mages (even the First Enchanter) think they were on equal footing with a templar.

She watched Orsino's door from a safe distance, slightly confident in her stealth skills now that she'd successfully avoided these same templars for a full day. Still, better safe than sorry.

Unfortunately, being safe meant she couldn't quite see the features of the men entering the rooms. There was a bald one she thought might had been Alrik. After three men went in she gave it twenty minutes, then decided that it had been long enough. Time to put Orsino out of his misery.

She glanced behind her to make sure she had her templars at beck and call. Seeing a nod from an inconspicuous corner made her feel reassured, and she strutted for the door with silent feet.

She didn't knock. She didn't brace herself for what she would see, either. That foresight had been neglected as she'd planned the rest of this venture.

Orsino was on his knees, robes hiked up to show his long, pale legs. His head was bobbing in front of a templar who seemed to be, except for his breeches, fully clothed. In the split second before they noticed her, she watched the man grab Orsino's hair and pull it sharply, forcing to the man to deep throat his cock.

Then he saw Meredith, and his hand quickly slackened.

She had her blade against her throat before the templar or Orsino knew what was going on. She pushed the mage back as her templars joined her and pushed the two men who'd been watching into the same positions.

"You're under arrest," growled Meredith. "For exploitation and for rape and for being a generally awful person."

It wasn't Alrik. She realized that she she pressed the blade to his neck, felt his jugular shiver under the cold hard steel of her weapon. Alrik wasn't there. Disappointment stabbed at her like a knife.

She glanced down and saw Orsino staring at her, wiping saliva off his chin with a comically shocked expression on his face.

"You don't understand," whispered the templar under her blade. "He _volunteered_. This was his idea! It's not...it's not what it looks like!"

"I know what it looks like," she growled. "And I know what it is. It isn't much of a choice when he other option is letting your people suffer. Emeric, take these men away."

The three men were shuffled out of the room, leaving Meredith and Orsino.

"H-How did you know?" he say, shakily getting to his feet, eyes on the floor.

"Emeric," she said. "And common sense."

He shot her the ghost of a smile. "They might come back. That wasn't all of them."

"No," she replied. "This will prove as example to them. And if they ever try anything again, I will stop them."

He didn't say anything, just stared at her. She managed a smile, and this time she was certain it came through.

"I meant what I said before," she said. "I protect mages."

* * *

He didn't knock before walking into her office. He was a strong-willed man, she had learned, and stubborn. She knew she wasn't supposed to like the First Enchanter, but it was hard, now that she knew what she'd done for his people.

When he walked in, though, her mind focused on something other than his rudeness.

"Your hair," she said, more visibly surprised then she'd have liked. "It's..."

He laughed, his face slightly more lined than she'd seen before. There were no traces of either make-up or bruises. "My hair has been gray since I was eighteen, Knight-Commander. I dyed it for the templars, to try and look more attractive. That's why I kept my hair long...it's nice to have short again, the way I like it."

She couldn't help herself; she kept staring at his silver hair. It suited him, somehow. "What are you here for?" she finally managed to say.

He straightened, and she noticed again how extraordinarily tall he was. Taller than many of her templars and all elves she'd seen. A freak, she'd heard him called. A freak of nature, for an elf to be like that. But that was the worst she'd heard in weeks.

"I wanted to thank you," said Orsino, his gaze centered on the window. "Before you came, I had given up my pride and my dignity to keep my people safe. My reputation was in tatters when you took command. It was worth it, but it is still nice to command respect again."

He shot her a look; in it held more warmth than she'd even see those murky green eyes hold.

"It was my duty," she said. "And I was glad to do it."

He nodded at her. "Not everyone would be. They've been discharged, and I supposed that's all a mage can hope for."

There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone, and her eyes narrowed. "You'd ask for more?"

"I spent four years of my life memorizing positions when I should have been taking care of my mages. I should have been studying but instead I was busy worrying if I would be able to perform well enough, if they'd give me up for a real woman with real female parts, if the scandal would grow too large. If my hair could have gone any grayer under the dye, it would have."

"It's over," she said. "Move on."

"Kind words," he said dryly. "But true enough. I will thank you again, Knight-Commander. for now I am in your debt. Let us hope it does not stay that way."

He gave her a half smile as he left, and she couldn't help but return it. A clever man, and resilient. A good man to be First Enchanter. If those four years hadn't broken him, nothing would.

* * *

hahahahaha I bet that's the last time you'll say _that_ meredith...I hope you liked it! :)


End file.
